


i see the doorway to a thousand churches

by brahe



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Also kind of, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, dick comes home and jays in love w him and they bang tada, dick is a power bottom don't at me, holiday fic, idk it's kind of aesthetic i guess?, jason is just really in love w dick ok, kind of, this is just really self indulgent and there's no plot, timeline don't know her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 10:00:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17281943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brahe/pseuds/brahe
Summary: He makes the mistake of looking up from where he's kneeling on the floor. Dick’s eyes are closed, again, his head tilted up towards the ceiling, and – and they haven't even done much, yet, besides the kiss in the kitchen, and Dick’s already looking like this. It's ridiculous, Jason thinks, ridiculous and hot and a constant, heady reminder that Dickwantshim, wants his touch and his care and his attention.





	i see the doorway to a thousand churches

**Author's Note:**

> I definitely meant to finish this to post by christmas, but here we are.
> 
> I have nothing to say for myself except that jaydick is the only thing I've been reading since thanksgiving.
> 
> enjoy whatever this is, and a happy late christmas/holiday season!
> 
> title from in your eyes – i was listening to the wonderful banks cover while writing this

It's well past midnight when Dick tumbles through the living room window. He sways a little on his feet and looks around, as if he's not sure what to do next. Jason looks up from his spot in the corner of the couch, then sets his book on the table as he gets up. Dick was supposed to be back three hours ago, for Christmas Eve dinner and a nice, well-deserved night in, but – but so it goes.

Jason gets his hands on Dick’s arms, rubbing up and down. “Hey there, sweetheart,” he says, keeping his voice low in the quiet of the room. Dick’s attention snaps to him. “What's going on?”

Dick shakes his head, leaning his weight into Jason's hands. “Nothin’,” he says. “Tired. Busy night.”

“Hm, I bet,” Jason agrees with a hum. “You okay?”

Dick nods. “Yeah, Jay, I'm alright,” he says, shaking off the last of that post-patrol haze he gets sometimes. “Just a couple bruises.” He leans forward, pressing his lips to Jason's in a light kiss, hands finding his waist, fingers tracing along the band of his sweatpants, ghosting along bare skin. He pulls away, swaying back on his heels, and there's a moment where Jason just takes it in – Nightwing, in all his glory, standing in the pale night city lights, a soft, relaxed smile on his lips, all for him – before he's using his grip on Dick’s arms to reel him in again, kissing him harder, longer.

“C’mon,” Jason says, when he wishes the feeling of Kevlar-spandex under his hands was Dick’s smooth, golden skin. “Bedroom.”

Dick goes willingly, Jason walking him down the hallway with little urging, quick, lingering kisses all the way there, and Jason closes the door behind them, an atmosphere settling around them almost instantly. The lights Dick strung up around the ceiling are lit, casting the room in a warm golden glow, and Dick’s suit looks out of place, the thought of their night jobs something too heavy, too dark for this space the lights have created.

Jason rubs his thumb against the lower edge of Dick’s domino, and the sudden desire to see his eyes strikes him, vicious.

“Let me,” he says, eyes following the movements of his thumb, and he catches Dick biting his lip from the corner of his eye. He runs his free hand up Dick’s shoulder and down over his arm, trails his fingertips against the stripe across his chest. “Let me take care of you,” he says, and his voice is already rough and halfway to wrecked, but he knows Dick is there, too, knows Dick loves being cared for, looked after, loves having nothing to do but receive affection.

He nods, tilting his head up into Jason, and Jason lets his hand fall from the domino to Dick’s mouth, traces his thumb along his bottom lip, pressing in and pulling down a bit, until Dick whimpers, a quiet, swallowed sound, but it's the one Jason was looking for, one that drives him crazy every time.

He steps away from Dick, then, which earns him another noise, a low whine of protest, and Jason hurries up where he's mixing the chemicals to break the domino seal, gathering the cotton pads and the washcloth.

When he returns, he hands Dick the chemical bowl to hold, and he gently, carefully, slowly, runs the pads along the edges of the domino until they begin to peel up just slightly, and then he's taking the chemicals from Dick, picking at the edge of the mask to pull it completely off, the material placed onto the dresser next to the chemical bowl. He takes the washcloth, after that, murmurs at Dick to close his eyes, and he runs the warm, damp cloth over Dick’s face, cleaning away the chemical residue, the grime the city always seems to leave on their skin.

Dick’s face is a slight pink when he's finished, and he steps back, and Dick, eyes still closed, leans forward after him until Jason catches his chin between his fingers, and then Dick’s eyes flutter open, his eyelashes long and ridiculous and so fucking beautiful, looking up at Jason like he's something good, like he's something Dick wants.

“Should get you out of the suit, too,” he says, and Dick mumbles an assent, body pliant to Jason's urging. Dick disabled the suit’s security when he climbed back through the window, so all Jason has to do is get it off, trailing his fingers along the lines of Dick’s shoulders to his neck, freeing the zipper to pull it down, sliding the fabric off Dick’s arms as he goes, caramel-golden skin revealed in its wake.

He gets the suit down, tugs it past Dick’s hips and holds onto each of Dick’s legs to pull it all the way off, and he makes the mistake of looking up from where he's kneeling on the floor. Dick’s eyes are closed, again, his head tilted up towards the ceiling, and – and they haven't even done much, yet, besides the kiss in the kitchen, and Dick’s already looking like this. It's ridiculous, Jason thinks, ridiculous and hot and a constant, heady reminder that Dick _wants_ him, wants his touch and his care and his attention.

Jason stands, and Dick opens his eyes, and Jason's nearly distracted by the way Dick looks under the lights – now that Nightwing’s been put away – the edges of his body turned soft, bright spots of light reflecting in his eyes. He guides Dick backward until the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, and he presses his hands on Dick’s shoulders to get him to sit, going willingly, eyes wide and blue and exactly the thing Jason wanted to see, looking up at him.

Jason looks back, gaze wandering, and he slides his hands up from Dick’s shoulders to the sides of his face, palms wide and rough-warm on his cheeks, and Dick’s letting him drive this thing – has been since the beginning, like usual – but they're reaching a point, now, the edge of something, rising up between them, under Dick’s skin. His skin is hot to the touch, warm under Jason's hands, and he imagines he can feel the heat from his chest even from where he stands between Dick’s open knees, increasingly familiar and so, so inviting.

Dick’s skin is soft, chin a little rough with faint hair, and Jason runs his thumbs over his cheekbones, tracing the lines of them over and over. He could stare at Dick forever, he thinks, at the lines of his face and the shapes of his features, never tiring. Jason follows the line of his nose, curving into a flat point and falling into full lips, bitten flush. He lingers there, finds himself leaning forward, but he isn't ready to fall into him yet, and so he pulls his eyes away, brings them up and up until he meets Dick’s gaze, heavy-lidded and focused. He's watching Jason, pupils huge and dark, ocean eyes black like the sky, and it's so heady, knowing that's for him, so much better than any high could ever possibly be. Dick Grayson, the picture of desire, for him and only him – it's dangerous, addicting, delicious.

It's enough to draw him in, to take him over, and Jason holds his face still as he leans in, kissing him, finally, pressing their lips together in something chaste, almost sweet, contradictory to the fire Jason can see in Dick’s eyes, is sure is reflected in his own. It's short, a simple press, before Jason's pulling away again, flicking his gaze between Dick’s eyes. He shifts his hands, sliding one back over Dick’s ear to wrap into his curls, around the back of his head, and the other falls to Dick’s chest, curled into a half-fist to hold onto him, and then – and then it's like the collision of two black holes, swirling around and around until they finally, finally sink into each other. Jason presses their lips together, tightens his hand in Dick’s hair, and then Dick’s pressing back, one arm tight around Jason's waist and his other hand a wide heat on the side of Jason's neck. He tilts Jason's head, kisses him deeper, traces his tongue along the seam of their lips until Jason gasps, and then he's _everywhere,_ pushing himself into Jason's mouth as he pulls Jason down, down onto him, the two of them falling back onto the bed, Jason against Dick’s body.

Their chests press together, Dick’s inhales shifting Jason's body against him, and they've still got their hands curled into each other. Jason kisses him harder, feels Dick’s heart where he's resting, and then he's pulling away to mouth along Dick’s jaw, sucking lightly at the bone and then down his neck to his collarbone, biting carefully at the skin there until he's left a red mark that'll last at least a couple days.

Dick’s hand has moved into Jason's hair, and he uses it to tug Jason back up, to bring their lips together again, kissing Jason's mouth open all over again.

Dick _likes_ kissing, Jason knows, loves the weight of another pressing him into the couch, the wall, the bed, loves the push and pull and slide of lips and tongue; he'd happily let Jason kiss him for hours, would gladly kiss him back until their lips are red and sore, until Jason's forgotten everything outside of Dick and the way he feels, his body and his breaths and his lips.

And Jason – Jason loves that he has this, has Dick, that he's _allowed_ to press Dick into the couch, the wall, the bed, allowed to kiss him for hours and hours, that Dick’s chosen him, let him in and held onto him despite Bruce and the masks and the troubles that seem to follow Jason everywhere.

Dick slows their kissing, gentling his pulls on Jason's lips until he comes to a stop, eyes lidded but trained on Jason, warm, searching.

“What's wrong, Jay?” he asks, voice soft and hoarse in a way that drives Jason absolutely crazy. Jason shakes his head slightly, gaze tracking around Dick’s face.

“Nothing’s wrong, gorgeous,” he says, carding his hand through Dick’s hair. Dick squints at him, disbelieving.

“You're thinking too much, I can tell,” Dick tells him, freeing a hand to rub his thumb at the skin between Jason's eyebrows. Jason shrugs.

“Just about how pretty you are,” he says, dropping a short kiss to Dick’s lips.

“Sure,” Dick says, rolling his eyes. “It's Christmas Eve, Jay,” he says, hands moving to thread into Jason's hair. “Relax. I'm not going anywhere.”

Jason sighs, dropping his chin onto Dick’s chest, not sure whether to hate the way Dick’s come to read him so easy.

“So you keep saying,” Jason says, and Dick’s got a hand in his hair again, fiddling with the curls, rubbing at his scalp.

“So I'll keep saying,” he says, an edge to his voice that's sure, certain in a way Jason doesn't think he could ever be. He sighs, tilts his head as he looks at Jason. “I'm sorry about our plans,” he says, and Jason rolls his eyes.

“Don't worry about it,” Jason says, almost like a scoff, and he pushes up from Dick’s chest for his lips, kissing him again, deep and sure. The _nothing is guaranteed_ goes unsaid, this time, and maybe it's the holiday spirit, or maybe it's just the way Jason losses himself in Dick every time they're together, but for once he doesn't feel the need to remind him of it, doesn't want to break this mood they've created.

Jason pulls back, says, “You're here now,” and the smile that gets him is bright, blinding, brilliant, and his heart must be in his eyes, but when Dick looks at him like that he can't find it in himself to care.

That beautiful, beautiful smile turns into something mischievous in a blink. “Better get to making the most of it, then,” he says, rolling his body up into Jason's, and _god_ does that never stop doing things to Jason, takes him from zero to a hundred in less than a heartbeat. Dick’s body is sinful, lithe, corded muscle and powerful, carefully controlled movements – and Dick knows it, knows how to use his body and _how to use his body,_ a masterpiece of self-awareness and control, the peak of physicality in every aspect of the word, and it never fails to make Jason a little heady, that all that's saved for him, handed over to him and him only.

Jason rolls, taking Dick with him, switching their positions so Dick’s in his lap. Dick looks down at him with a laugh, hair loose and hanging in his face, and Jason's world screeches to a halt, every cell of his being focused on this one moment, on Dick and his midnight curls and rich, warm skin, and Jason squeezes his hands where they're curled around Dick’s hips.

“ _God_ you are magnificent,” Jason tells him, a little breathless, and maybe he didn't quite mean to let that slip, but it's the truth and he's been meaning to say that more often these days. “Stunning.” There's a light blush coloring Dick’s cheeks, now, and Jason rubs his thumbs against the lines of his hips. “Absolutely gorgeous, sweetheart.”

Dick presses his hands against Jason's chest, looks down, away from his face. “Come on, quit it,” he says, more of a mumble, a faint kind of laughter behind the words, and Jason shakes his head, frees one hand to run through Dick’s hair, to cup his chin and turn those eyes back to Jason.

“I won't,” Jason says, “Not till you really believe how much I'm in love with you, babe.”

Dick’s eyes flutter closed, his eyelashes ridiculous and long, casting flickering shadows on his cheeks, and he shifts in Jason's lap, which causes them both to hiss. Dick leans forward until he can kiss Jason, heat and velvet soft, and he's keeping up a vague rhythm with his hips, and Jason's thinking he might be done before they even begin.

“Love you, too, Jay,” he murmurs, pressed into Jason's lips, and it's a steady movement, now, rolling hips with the intent to get off, and a part of Jason wants to do more that just this, wants his hands, his mouth on Dick, wants the tight heat of a good fuck, but this – this _fits,_ somehow, the atmosphere they're still in, something not quite gentle but not rough, either, just desperate enough, and Jason does rather like the way it makes him think about the early days of their relationship, half the time too eager to get any clothes off at all, on each other like teenagers who'd never gotten off.

When Dick comes, Jason feels like he's looking at a painting, some new age masterpiece of passion and pleasure and total surrender. There's a pink hue to his golden skin, and his head’s tilted back, the column of his throat endlessly inviting, and some of his curls are sticking to his forehead, and his mouth’s open in a soundless shout, and – and it's enough to send Jason himself over the edge, always is, Dick lost in the pleasure Jason's brought him to.

“God, I love you,” Dick says, still breathing hard, and he looks down at Jason with that stupid, _stupid_ smile like he hasn't just had his mind blown, and what's Jason supposed to do but stare up at him, honestly, looking like that.

Jason shifts his hands from Dick’s hips to trace up his sides, over his shoulders, up his neck, and into his hair, a little damp and sticking a bit to his fingers. He drags Dick down for a kiss, something filthy and messy until it turns into something slower, sweeter, as Dick comes down, bringing Jason with him.

“Got a bit of a mess to clean up, there, Dickie,” he says, once Dick’s sat back up, and he watches as Dick swings his leg around, pushing himself off the bed. He's halfway to the bathroom when he pulls his boxers off, wadding them up on the floor to be cleaned later. Once he's reached the doorway he turns, a grin and a raised eyebrow in response to Jason's open staring.

“You coming or what?” he asks before disappearing, turning the water on as Jason definitely does not launch himself out of the bed, shedding his sweatpants on the way.

He comes up behind Dick, wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Merry Christmas, Dick,” he says, quiet, and he knows Dick’s smiling without even having to see his face.

“Merry Christmas, Jay.”

  
  



End file.
